


I Wear My Heart On My Sleeve And Your Name Upon My Wrist

by crossroadswrite



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M, Soulmate AU, Very Light Depictions of Gore
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-26
Updated: 2014-08-26
Packaged: 2018-02-14 22:23:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,266
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2205198
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crossroadswrite/pseuds/crossroadswrite
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Castiel was created to be a mere foot soldier. Follow the orders of the heavenly host and keep quiet about it, don’t question, don’t think, just do what you’re told.</p>
<p>He followed these rules to a dot, doing everything in his power to avoid the discrimination that other angels with marks upon their wrists were submitted too. Castiel was different and he knew it, he would be different than all of his fallen brothers and he would ignore when his soulmate’s soul called for him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Wear My Heart On My Sleeve And Your Name Upon My Wrist

**Author's Note:**

> So after I made [this post](http://crossroadswrite.tumblr.com/post/87379678743/yes-but-you-know-all-these-cutesy-soulmates-posts) I promised [Laura](http://supernaturallyartistic.tumblr.com) I'd write her a proper soulmate au fic and this is what I came up with. Enjoy!

First God didn’t create the earth or the universe. First, God created his archangels, built at his image to make his lonely existence a little less lonely. Then he created his angels, beings of holy wrath who’d protect and care for all of his lesser but more precious creations.

Then, God made the universe and with it he made the earth, just a ball of slime that would become a beautiful thing, home for life and the most precious and dangerous of beings.

God set a grey fish into the vast ocean and let nature take its course until the fish became a man who could walk and communicate and be creative and be revengeful and make mistakes and repent.

And while that grey fish evolved, God made Adam, his final project and thrust him into paradise, his beautiful soul was gentle and caring. He doted on the wildlife and he obeyed, but God knew that there was something missing, that sooner or later Adam would feel lonely again and that’s when he decided to split his overwhelmingly bright soul in two and created Eve. A woman he could love and his true soulmate, destined only for him for the rest of existence, and so God marked them with each other’s names upon their wrists, so they would always find each other.

Except something went wrong in his plan for earth. Not only did his second eldest rebel against him and had to be cast down to a new Hell of his own making by his older brother, but some of his angels had now names scrawled upon their wrists, indicated that they too had a soulmate bound on earth in some time period.

God watched his final creation evolve and become greatness itself, and then he watched his angels falling slowly. All the ones with a mark upon their wrist ripped out their graces to be with their destined soul, so they too could achieve completion.

And so God, ashamed for his mistake and forsaking the future of his children, left heaven and disappeared.

«»

Castiel was created to be a mere foot soldier. Follow the orders of the heavenly host and keep quiet about it, don’t question, don’t think, just do what you’re told.

He followed these rules to a dot, doing everything in his power to avoid the discrimination that other angels with marks upon their wrists were submitted too. Castiel was different and he knew it, he would be different than all of his fallen brothers and he would ignore when his soulmate’s soul called for him.

In the first millennia it was easy to do so and Castiel fought harder and put much more effort in climbing the ranks of heaven, reaching commander of his own garrison, even though many looked down at him and pitied him. Even though Zachariah looked in disgust at him and repeatedly said “You’re bound to fall, it’s only a matter of time, Castiel.”

He didn’t listen, he continued to be a good soldier, a good warrior of God, his armor effective against every jab every angel threw his way.

Castiel was a warrior of God and he didn’t falter, except for maybe those few times that came far in-between when he had found himself tracing his finger upon the mark in his wrist, mouthing the single word carefully.

_Dean_.

«»

The birth of his soulmate was something of a tragic beauty.

Castiel watched as heaven sent his best cherubs, his best cupids to make John Winchester and Mary Winchester fall in love, marking their hearts with heaven’s intent, manipulating events carefully so that Dean would be conceived and brought to this world for their own purpose.

Dean had barely taken his first breath in this harsh world and Castiel’s heart already ached for him, because he knew in that instant that he had been marked for the Righteous Man with the brightest soul Castiel had ever seen. So bright that lesser angels had to turn their eyes.

He took a first look at that baby from far up in heaven, all pink and blood soaked and screaming righteous indignation from being ripped off his mother’s womb, and he knew right then and there that his Fall wasn’t a ‘if’ anymore, it wasn’t a matter of him being a good soldier or not, it was a ‘when’.

Castiel would Fall from grace for his soul mate, his Righteous Man, his Dean.

He knew all that from looking at the screaming infant on his mother’s arms.

«»

Castiel made it to general of a garrison, fighting his way up the ranks, keeping a careful eye on Dean while trying to be discreet about it. If the other angels caught wind of his interest he’d be surely shunned.

He watched as the years roughed Dean up, threw him around as they pleased and Dean always came back kicking and snarling, hanging on to his family on his way through life.

He watched the doomed family become torn and frayed, he watched Sam leave and John’s abuse, he watched the wheels of hell and heaven set into motion when Dean firstly tackled his brother to the floor on his brother’s own home and he watched as their future fell from their grasp.

Castiel kept his distance, because even if Dean was his soul mate, even if he’d want nothing more but to be with him in every human and angelic sense of the word, he still was an angel in his very core, hard wired to obey.

He kept his distance, trained his garrison for the impending war that every angel could feel closing in on them like an electric current passing through their very grace.

The archangels were busy. Michael and Raphael making plans and consorting with the angels in higher ranks than Castiel’s.

They were preparing for something big and once Dean Winchester sold his soul to some demon and set his fate down in stone, Castiel was clued in and asked to be their strategist.

The archangels were gathering the generals of the several garrisons and planning an all-out attack on hell to rescue something precious. Something that would be a weapon to them against Lucifer.

They were following the script. Castiel was inconsequential for the result.

«»

They had a plan, they had all the angels they needed but something was holding them back. Orders from the highest chain of command for them to hold their ground. Not to advance on Hell until ordered to.

Dean had been in Hell for twenty years now and Castiel could feel it like a dull ache in the back of his head all the misery and torment he was going through, sometimes he could hear him _scream_. It made him cagey, it made him reckless.

He wanted to go in _now_. Something primal, in his very core was shouting at him to go get his soul mate, to rescue him and bring him back to safety.

This is why the soul bond had been one of God’s mistakes, it made people and angels alike unstable, ready to start wars over it, ready to kill over it, ready to burn everything over it.

Dean had been in Hell for about thirty years when they finally, _finally_ let him advance on Hell.

Castiel lead his garrison like a madmen, eviscerating everything that dared cross his way until he reached Dean. _His Dean._

His soul was still bright even if black smoke was starting to curl around the arm that held the blade, the same arm with _Castiel_ written across it.

The angel approached carefully, watching Dean hold up a bloody knife in one hand and the guts of some twisted soul in the other. His grin was feral.

His eyes travelled up and down Castiel’s shimmering form, only being able to look at him when his soul was in its purest state. No body to lock it in and keep it safe.

“And just _what_ are you supposed to be?” he asked almost amused, “Something new to torment me, or my new toy?”

He let his grace burn bright within him, hating like he had never hated the being that tried to twist Dean’s soul into this.

“I’m an angel of the Lord,” he said, his voice booming across the space between them.

Dean snorted, “And I’m the queen of France,” he deadpanned, adjusting his grip on the knife and letting go of the internal organs he had been holding.

Castiel took a step forward, unfolded his wings behind him to their span, all two pairs of them and rose to his full height, this time when he spoke, he made sure that his grace reached out and curled around Dean’s bright soul, “I _am_ an angel of the Lord. My name is Castiel and I am here to rescue you from perdition.”

Dean gasped as his grace enveloped him, the black smoke curling around his blade hand receding like a scared dog as Dean’s soul started to pulse brighter, tried to reach out for Castiel. He dropped his knife and step forward, Castiel clutched at his shoulder letting his very grace and intent burn into Dean as his soul blacked out and went limp on his arms.

Castiel rose from perdition with his soul mate in his arms and the whispers of Heaven and enraged screams of Hell on his heels.

«»

He mends Dean’s soul and body carefully, reverently, making sure that everything is as it was before those vicious hellhounds tore into Dean.

Okay, maybe he takes some liberties, maybe he raises Dean’s pain tolerance, maybe he mends his liver and makes sure it stays healthy, maybe he clears all the big scars out, maybe he makes sure that he’s a little bit better, more prepared for what’s coming than he was before.

Dean’s body is easy to mend. It’s a physical thing. Dean’s soul and mind is harder. He can’t very well erase all of hell from his mind, but he can reach into his soul with his very grace, feeling that deep sense of completion that being this close to your soul mate gives you, and he curls around the wisps of black smoke, of demonic possession and banishes them, restores Dean’s brightness which is almost blinding in its pure form.

Castiel can’t stop looking at such a perfect creature his Father put on this world, some of his grace rebelling at the thought that this pure soul, this Righteous Man that already suffered so much, already had been to Hell and back would still have a battle to fight. The biggest battle known to man and angel and the chances of him coming out of this alive were close to none.

But Castiel wasn’t very much worried about it, after all, Michael only needed Dean’s permission and his body and then he’d send him to Heaven so he could be with his family, so he could be happy and Dean’s Heaven was a very much pleasant place that Castiel didn’t mind spending the rest of eternity in.

Michael promised eternity with Dean and Castiel knows he’ll get it. Maybe it’s something irrational that Dean has awoken in him the second Castiel touched him Hell, maybe it’s the soul bond connecting them, pulling them towards each other.

«»

Dean doesn’t recognize him when he comes to him, but at the mention of Castiel’s name his eyes clear, his pulse quickens, he backs down the slightest bit.

Castiel tries to remain stoic and keep his focus on his mission.

Dean doesn’t think he deserves to be saved. Castiel immediately disagrees and knows he’s already lost, so he just repeats: “My name is Castiel, I’m an angel of the Lord, and I have waited a long time for you, Dean Winchester.”

«»

In the very end he falls for Dean. Of course he does.

“I’m a Disgrace,” Castiel mumbles, feeling his wings burning out, feathers falling and it _hurts_. He feels his Grace slowly seeping out of his body and it leaves him numb.

Dean is a hard man, made harder by hard times. He can show a myriad of emotions or none at all.

Castiel thinks he’s a little numb inside too. Castiel knows that the fortress he built around him is impenetrable, he doesn’t hope for anything to happen between him and Dean because Castiel _is a disgrace_ and he is not deserving of such a bright soul.

He should’ve known better though, because Dean always surprises him.

His Righteous Man, his hunter, his soul mate sits down next to him on the dirt sidewalk and takes his hand, fingers intertwined together and wrist touching exactly where each other’s name is engraved. Two halves of one whole.

Dean says, “No you’re not,” with finality. The little human dictating the fate of the mighty angel like it was bound to happen, like Castiel knew it would happen ever since that name had been burned into his very being, “You’re my angel, Cas.”

Castiel takes a deep breath, forgetting his grace seeping out of his bones and his wings burning out in a last blaze of his former glory.

He won’t say how ironic it is, that Dean calls him Cas, meaning to fall. He thinks about how God named him and he thinks this was bound to happen. God intended him to Fall. He takes a little comfort in that.

Takes more comfort in squeezing Dean’s hand carefully, not knowing how much of his angelic strength is left.

They sit there, Castiel slowly falling and Dean holding on to him, breaking his fall.

**Author's Note:**

> [Hey there, mate!](http://crossroadswrite.tumblr.com)


End file.
